


Exspiravit

by The_Fourth_Catalyst



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mental Breakdown, Takes place in the afterlife, The Land of the Dead, What happens after we die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fourth_Catalyst/pseuds/The_Fourth_Catalyst
Summary: (Latin for "ghost") A recently-deseased United States Navy soldier and war hero finds himself in the realm of the dead with no recollection of how or when he died. Some souls remain in the underworld after they die, some choose to remain on earth as ghosts, some are given entry to Heaven and others are sentenced to eternal damnation in Hell. Marcellus wants to find out how he died in the first place with the help of some new friends.





	1. My Name is Marcellus King and I'm Dead

Falling. 

That's the first thing he could remember.

Maj. Gen. Marcellus King fluttered open his eyes to see that he was plummeting fast down what seemed to be a seemingly endless void of dark nothingness. At first, everything seemed white and numb until his vision cleared and he was unsure of what was going on. It was like going skydiving for the first time, expect you'd forgotten to bring a parachute. He flailed his arms around and screamed in both confusion and terror, hoping something would catch him and halt his fall, but nothing did. He was just falling and falling and falling and didn't seem to stop at any time soon. All he could see was a big bright light. He fell for what seemed like hours. 

Then suddenly, he finally landed hard on the ground and the hard impact, caused him to pass out as he was now drained of all his energy. Everything was black now.

* * *

 

Marcellus awoke to feel someone tapping him in the face. He stirred awake, groaning and moaning as his vision was blurred. He sat up and rubbed his head. Voices all around him were nothing but echoes at first. After a couple seconds, both his vision and hearing adjusted until he could finally hear and see clearly.

"Well, look who we got here, boys." said a masculine voice. "A new arrival."

"He seems like a bruiser." remarked another with amazement.

"Does he have any dead relatives?"

"Ooh, such a handsome one."

"He's still numb."

Marcellus looked up to see he was surrounded by a group of people. But his confused expression was replaced with one of absolute horror. These weren't ordinary people. He was positive that they weren't people at all. They looked like decaying corpses. Zombies even. Each of them appeared to have been mutilated in various possible ways. One was a woman who had a steel bar impaled through her left eye and skull. Another appeared to be a victim of leprosy with decaying, rotting, malformed flesh. And possibly the most gruesome out of all of them, there was this man in his late 20's who appears to have been dismembered from his right arm and his left ankle. He held his dismembered arm, still bleeding from the bottom, out to Marcellus in a rather teasing manner.

"Hey, new guy. Need a hand?" He joked slyly with a smirking grin.

That was it. Marcellus had seen enough of this. He hastily got to his feet, shoved the decomposing people aside and darted away from them as quick as a flash, utterly terrified. He dashed out through double doors and left.

"Where's he going?"

"Aw, you scared him away, Rory."

Marcellus ran and ran as fast as he could away from the freaking-looking individuals. He was so frightened and confused, he didn't know how long he was out or what was going on. Or where he was for that matter. Did some kind of nuclear holocaust occur and mutate everyone? No, that was unlikely. He didn't stop running until he bumped into another man, whose head suddenly fell off upon impact and fell into his hands. The man's decapitated head glared back at Marcellus with annoyance.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, asshole?" He seethed.

With a scream of terror, Marcellus tossed the still-functional head into the air and ran for it once more. The man caught his head and put it back in place. As he ran, he looked all around to see many other people who looked like they had similar fatalities. Not only that, but there were human skeletons walking around as if they were a part of the humans. Marcellus was baffled and gobsmacked at this rate. Fear and confusion clutched his mind in a vice grip.

"Hey, buddy." Marcellus gasped and saw a skeleton waving at him while being hung from a noose. "How's it hanging?"

"Oh, god. Not that joke again." A fellow skeleton shook his head from the first one's cheesy pun.

"Come on. It's a classic." The first skeleton argued.

Marcellus ran down an alleyway and when he was sure there was no one else around, he finally stopped to catch his breath and sat on the ground behind a dumpster to calm down. He panted and then sighed as he tried to think of a good explanation to his current situation right now. He looked at his hands and noticed that he was producing a sort of greenish mist-like substance from his body and he could almost see through his hands if he squinted. He almost looked like a ghost. He was speechless. How could this have happened, he asked himself mentally. Then a homeless-looking guy with a boney, undead appearance popped out of the dumpster and looked at Marcellus.

"Hey, help a brother out." He said, presenting his boney hand out to him.

But Marcellus was not in the mood, so he shoved his hand away and dashed back out of the alleyway. Marcellus got a good look of where he want now. There were building all around. But they weren't any normal buildings you'd be familiar with. Theses buildings and foundations were all twisted, lopsided and out of regular shape and size, looking like something out of a quirky Tim Burton cartoon. In fact, everything looked oddly-shaped and deformed like he was standing in a more dark and sadistic version of Toontown. But he needed to get to higher ground, so by climbing up the strange ladder and onto the rooftop of the weird building, Marcellus marveled at the sight he was seeing. It was a dark, dystopian city and it looked like there was no sign of life anywhere and yet, there were still people roaming around as if it's normal. It looked like a regular post-apocalyptic city, but every skyscraper, every building, every street and highway were all ridiculously and cartoonishly-malformed; full of outlandish landscapes and the biggest, towering skyscrapers that were twisted and twirled in an otherworldly fashion. The place was completely dark and gloomy and when Marcellus looked up, there were no stars, no clouds, not even the moon in sight, nothing, but complete darkness. None of this seemed real.

"Where the fuck am I?" breathed Marcellus with a breathless tone of disbelief.

Then he suddenly felt a painful, burning sensation coming from inside his pocket. Once it stopped, he yanked out a black sheet of paper with writing on it. It was some kind of note. He read the note:

_"Greetings, young soul._

_If you are reading this note, it means that you have now passed on from_  
_life and you now remain in the land of the dead. You will be cordially summoned_  
_to our department of selection to determine your place in the hereafter._

_Exact time: Right now?"_

Marcellus read the last line in a questioning manner and suddenly shielded himself when he was teleported off to somewhere. Everything was now pitch black and he couldn't see a damn thing. Then a light illuminated from above, allowing Marcellus to see part of where he was standing. There was a black-and-white patterned tiled floor and he was still surrounded by the thick dark. More lights came on, creating some kind of path in front of Marcellus. There were about ten lights lit up, creating a straight line up ahead. Then suddenly, a dark figure revealed itself in the light. It was clad in a black tattered robe and was holding a deadly scythe with it's boney, clawed fingers. He couldn't see his face as it was covered by a hood. Then the figure slowly raised a hand silently gestured with it's finger for Marcellus to come forward. Reluctantly and hesitantly, Marcellus waded down the lit path and approached the dark figure, which appeared taller than him in size. Marcellus could almost discern this mysterious figure's face, resembling a skull with glowing eyes. It reached down and gingerly clutched Marcellus's dog tags in it's fingers and read it. 

"Marcellus King." The figure said in a spine-chilling, ghastly voice and let out a slight amused chuckle. "Welcome to the afterlife."

"Who are you?" asked the bemused Marcellus.

"I am Death." answered the dark, towering form before him. "I am the physical and ethereal embodiment of death itself. And you, my fine specimen, are now dead."

"I.........." Marcellus struggled to find his words as he tried to take in this news.

"I sense you are very confused." Death abruptly replied before Marcellus could say anything. "It's not an uncommon thing to be misunderstood after finally reaching the end of his mortality. Everything will be more apparent once you've finally settled in."

"How exactly....did I die?" asked Marcellus.

"That is for you to find out for yourself. In time. Come." Death slowly turned and levitated down the path ahead, gesturing for Marcellus to follow suit and he obeyed. A light illuminated their presence where ever they went and Marcellus saw what looked like an angel statue that was crying blood. He shuttered with disgust and continued on. They finally stopped at a door. Death moved aside and placed a hand on Marcellus's back as he advanced toward the door.

Marcellus was about to reach the handle when he turned to look at Death, but saw that he suddenly disappeared and left him alone. Waving this off, he grabbed for the door and opened it. He stepped into a room. A room that looked like it was abandoned for years. Cobwebs were everywhere and it looked like this place was ancient. Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, Marcellus turned, only to find that the door he came through was gone. There was no turning back now. Marcellus walked down a corridor and entered a large waiting room of all things. There were other deceased people here who were waiting to get into the afterlife. Marcellus sat down next to a middle-aged woman wearing a hospital gown and respiratory mask. On his left was a fat man who had a saw stuck in his belly.

It was all perfectly quiet here as everyone waited disturbingly patient.

"What's your story?" asked the woman next to him.

"I don't really know yet." Marcellus shrugged.

"Figures. I was undergoing third bypass surgery in the hospital. The operation failed." She pulled down the collar of her gown to reveal a large open incision in her chest with her heart visible for the whole world to see. Marcellus nearly gagged at the sight.

"I used to be a construction worker when I struck with this blade from a faulty buzzsaw before I fell 97 stories." The man with the saw in his gut replied.

"Oh, yeah? Wow." Marcellus nodded with a fake smile.

"Edith Perking?" said the person at the window, who was a skeleton.

"That's my cue. Wish me luck." The woman who died from failed heart surgery, now named Edith, stood up and went over to the window. Few seconds later, Edith headed for the double doors and left through them.

"Marcellus King?"

As soon as his name was called, Marcellus stood up and headed for the window. The skeleton looked at him up and down before looking at him with his empty eyeholes.

"So you've come back home from the way, eh?" cracked the skeleton facetiously. "Well, we've gotten many soldiers down here. Many who have died in battle. Oh, yes. Soldiers do tend to risk their lives when necessary. You, sir, will be remaining among the purgatory. Your new resting place is near the commercial district section. You'll meet some new friends. And you'll be taken under the wing of Sir William Wallace. You remember him don't you? The Scottish knight from the Wars of Scottish Independence? Yeah, that one. Not the one that Mel Gibson portrayed in that hateful movie. Anyway, you'll go right through those doors there and enjoy resting in peace."

"Uh, thank you." Marcellus nodded.

He waded over to the double doors and proceeded to walk through them. It was misty where he was now. A thick fog that could almost be cut with a knife. And it was also silent in such a way that no possible sound could be produced. When Marcellus called out "Hello?", his voice didn't leave an echo. The hallway he was in seemed to be endless; nothing but distorted doors and walls snapped in a similar fashion as the buildings from earlier and just when he was about to give up from going any further, there was a skeletal figure standing there wearing old traditional medieval Scottish garbs and knightly armor.

"Evenin', lad." The skeletal man greeted with a Scottish accent. "You must be Marcellus."

"Yeah, that's me. And you are?" asked Marcellus.

"Sir William Wallace is me name. Put 'er there." William addresses and presented forth his boney, decomposing hand for a handshake.

Although hesitant at first, Marcellus gripped his hand and gave it a good shake, which only caused William's hand to break off. Marcellus yelped and jumped back in both disgust and fear, while William only laughed his ass off.

"Oh, that gets me every time!" William guffawed as he reattached his hand. "Well, hilarity's aside. You're the new freshly dead new in the afterlife and I'm here as your guide and possibly ally, assigned by Death to show you the details about everything down here. If you follow me."

And so, William and Marcellus walked down the hallway together.

"You've noticed some skeletons around here, eh?" asked William as he explained. "Well, that's what happens when you've been death for extremely long periods of time. Your flesh eventually starts to rot away, leaving only bones. But don't worry, that takes longer than the amount of time your body from above rots."

"And how long have you've been dead?" asked Marcellus.

"I lost count." William shrugged. "I died in the year 1305, so it's difficult to keep track of the time from down here, give or take. By tomorrow, you'll be joining a support group. But for today, I'll be showing you're grave."

"My grave?" repeated Marcellus, confused.

"Why, of course. Every dead person has one." William conceded. "You'll meet some new friends and have a lot of fun. Besides, being dead is a lot more fun than being alive."

"What's more fun about death than life?"

"To name a few things: You can no longer feel pain, you do a lot of things like travel to different planets and various worlds, the whole kit and caboodle." William said. "And you'll be able to visit the land of the living. The benefit of it is you won't be seen, heard, or felt by any of the living. You're pretty much a ghost now. However, there are some disadvantages like if someone were to film a video for YouTube and inadvertently capture footage of you in your spectral form, but other than that, the chances of you being seen by the living are rare. Believe me, many of attempted to reach the living and the results were either disastrous, phenomenal or dangerous if you know what I mean."

"How long is this hallway anyway?" Marcellus asked, looking all around to see that the hallway was going on for hours now.

"It varies." William answered. "Ah, there's the doorway."

True. There was a door right there in front of them somehow, much to Marcellus's confusion as there wasn't one there before. Or at least, not that he saw. William opened the door and the two found themselves back into the streets of the hellish, cartoonish city of the dead. William walked down the steps and over to a car.

"There she is." He said as he stepped into the driver's seat of the car. "We may be passed on from life from above with technology and vehicles, but that don't mean we can be away from it."

"Since when do you know how to drive?" Marcellus asked.

"It's a long story. Hop in."

They drove up, down and all around the twisting and circling highways and roads as if they were on a roller coaster. Marcellus held on tight in his seat as William drove. The streets from above had nothing on these.

"Yeah, it's a real maze down here. These roads are not as tame as the ones you know from when you were still breathing. It's gonna take some getting used to and you'll get the hang of it soon." William explained, gripping the wheel, turning it left and right, where the confusing roads took him.

"Mmm-mmm." Marcellus grunted with a nod as he held on a tightly as he could.

"Lots of people die every day and are sent here. It's nighttime everyday and pretty cold, not that you'll feel the temperature. But it's not always crowded. Most are ascended into Heaven, but only the religious ones. Some are banished into Hell for their life of sin and some are just sent into the afterlife. But don't be alarmed, there are some who are physically and astronomically erased from the cosmos. Not exactly to prevent framed spaces, even though this is an endless dimension, but just to get rid of those are dangerous and cannot be redeemed."

"Aren't they sent to Hell, too?"

"Yeah, but in Hell, you are punished and eternally damned for everything you've done wrong. If you refuse to own up to the consequences of your past actions and wrongdoings or abide by the rules of the dead; never interfere with the living, take lives from the living or even try to communicate with the living under purposes of torture, then you're permanently erased from the universe itself. And this cannot be undone. You're familiar with a Ouija board, right?"

"Can't say that I am." Marcellus shrugged. 

"Well, that's a special board that allows users to communicate with us from above." William said. "You'll hear their voices trying to reach you and it's okay if you respond back, but just keep it that way. Most Ouija board communications often end badly for those who use it as the afterlife is not be interfered by the living. Sometimes it's not just you they will hear. They'll hear something more sinister."

"That sounds very dangerous." explained Marcellus with fear.

"Aye." agreed William.

After some time, they finally arrived where they needed to be. They were up on the surface in an cemetery. But not just any cemetery. The exact place where Marcellus was buried. They were now ghosts and looking all around, there were ghosts all over the place. The same people who died and were buried here as well. 

"Welcome to Metairie Cemetery. The place you now haunt." William expressed with exaggerated joy. "These are all the people who were buried here, too. Come with me. Your grave is this way."

The ghosts of Marcellus and Sir William Wallace passed the wavering spirits of the dead until they happened upon the tombstone they were looking for. Marcellus's eyes widened with shock. He was standing right in front of his own grave. 

 _In Memory_ _of_

_Maj. Gen. MARCELLUS ANDREW KING_

_July 2, 1983 - August 13, 2017_

_United States Navy_

_Brave Soldier, Loving Husband and Father_

"Nice, isn't it?" asked William almost jokingly. "Just wait until you see the rest."

Then suddenly, the grass and dirt above the grave suddenly disappeared in no less than ten seconds, leaving only a rectangular-shaped hole, exposing the coffin in the ground. Confused, Marcellus jumped in. He lifted the top hatch of the coffin and gasped when he saw his own corpse, laying deathly still inside the coffin. Eyes shut, hands folded and a bouquet placed on his chest. Words could not describe what Marcellus felt right. The revelation of seeing his dead self, buried in a coffin, shocked him beyond comprehension.

"It's like meeting your long-lost twin, isn't it?" cracked William. "Well, enough sightseeing."

The hatch to the coffin shut and dirt and grass quickly began to reform in the grave, bringing Marcellus back to the top as if nothing happened.

"Will I always be here in this cemetery?" demanded Marcellus.

"Not always. You can just come up here whenever you want. But I promise you, this is the only amount of the surface you'll get to see. Because ghosts cannot leave the area of which they haunt."

"Then why are you here?"

"Death had me sent here to give you the details. But just for today." William explained. "Here, allow me to show you the past."

Before Marcellus knew it, they were both standing in the middle of a desert. Marcellus looked all around, confused and unsure of where they are or why they were here. But this place suddenly seemed familiar to him as if he had been here before. Then suddenly, a trio of soldiers staggered past them, unaware of their presence. One of them was helping his comrade walk across the hot, dry and sandy landscape. The weak solider was Marcellus himself and he appeared to have a large, deep gash right on his thigh, which was bleeding profusely. It finally struck in his mind. This was a memory. A vision of his past. Marcellus's fellow soldiers were helping him across the desert to get him medical attention after an untold accident left him critical and mortally injured. Unfortunately, Marcellus was growing weaker and weaker each second as he was losing a lot of blood and he consequently collapsed onto the ground as his life was slowing fading away. His comrades rushed to him and screamed at him to wake up in fear and desperation. 

From out of nowhere, a loud barking interrupted the whole setting, causing it all to vanish and Marcellus and William found themselves back in the cemetery. Marcellus looked for the source of the rude noise and found a German Shepard dog outside of the cemetery with it's front paws on the bars of the fence and barking at them.

"Bloody mongrel!" spat William with irritation for the mutt's interruption.

"He's not barking at us, is he?" asked Marcellus.

"Oh no, he is." answered William. "Are you familiar with the myth that dogs, cats or other animals can see things that humans can't?"

"Can't say that I am." shrugged Marcellus.

"Well, it's true. And some animals, dogs mostly, are able to see ghosts like us."

"Fitzie! Fitzie, that's enough! Come here, boy!" shouted the night watchman of the cemetery and the dog whimpered, but scampered off to his master nonetheless.

* * *

 

Back into the land of the dead, William brought him to where Marcellus was going to stay. There was an apartment building with a blinking neon sign. William brought him inside and up to his apartment where he will be living for the rest of his afterlife. It was a wide place, but it had seen better days and was a little dilapidated like it's been deserted for years. Just like the rest of the land of the dead, everything here was all oddly-shaped and deformed like a macabre cartoon of sorts of psychedelic appearance. There was a fireplace of his own, a couch and a lounge chair with a TV, a kitchen with a slight cockroach infestation, a bathroom that had an upside-down version of itself from the high ceiling, even a bedroom with a boring old bed.

"And this is where you will be living." William confirmed as Marcellus walked around to explore the place. "You think you'll be okay here?"

"It's......not quite the most comfy place to be." The dead soldier said, feeling a little dissatisfied.

"Well, it is gonna take some getting used to." said the Scottish revolutionist. "And by the way, you're having a meeting tomorrow with a support group. So don't be late. Okay, bye now, laddie and enjoy yourself in the afterlife."

And with that, William Wallace was gone out the door in seconds, leaving Marcellus alone with his new home; this rusty, crumpling old foundation of wooden floors and rusting plaster walls and God knows what else. As he plopped himself onto the lounge chair, he tried turning it on, but was met with static. Confused, he tried changing the channel, but each one was the same. Nothing, but static. He sighed and dropped the remote. And as he sat there, he thought about the revelation he endured. Here he was now dead and passed on into the afterlife. It wasn't going to be as easy as it was being alive, but who knows. You never know when there might be unexpected surprises. He bled out. What an original way to die. But blood was one of the things you couldn't live without, so what are gonna do?


	2. Welcome to the Support Group

The next day, Marcellus was sitting in a circle with a few other dead folk. Sleeping last night wasn't very easy, but it wasn't hard either. Resting in peace, they say. Not as much. When they use the term "rest in peace" (R.I.P. for short), they would assume that after you die, your body would rest in the ground while your soul lifts peacefully up into heaven. But their believe in the afterlife is extremely rare. Marcellus was Roman Catholic and he comes from a family who believed there was a God, but they weren't very religious in most ways. They just go to church on Sundays, prayed to their lord and that was it. Now religion was man-made as it would was made to guide humanity to believe we were created by a God for a reason. If there wasn't a god, if there never was a god to begin with, then religion wouldn't have been necessary. But not everyone believed in God, mind you. Everyone had their own views on their own existence. And just because you think there is a God, doesn't mean everyone else needs to either.

Anyway, Marcellus had already passed out on his new bed that was hardly made and he didn't even need to get up, get dressed and be out the door; that sort of thing. When it was time for him to come to the meeting, he was suddenly levitated into the air and plummeted upwards and abruptly found himself sitting in a chair where he was surrounded by other deceased people. Famous painter Bob Ross was the center of it all.

"Okay, I'm going to point to you and I want you to tell me your name and your cause of death." He announced and pointed at the first one and it went on from there.

"Dr. Yeghivart Szyslak Jr. I committed suicide by jumping off the tallest skyscraper." said one with a slight Armenian accent.

"Annabelle Fairchild. I was accused of witchcraft and hung by the neck." said a young pilgrim-looking woman.

"Ósvald Eyjólfsson. After my heating system failed during the winter, I caught hypothermia." replied an Icelandic man covered in frost and ice.

"Wladislav Zzyzwicz. I was attacked and butchered by his little guy right here." said a fisherman who had a Great White Shark on his leg.

"Tiffany Mullins. I was shot down by the police." said a teenage girl with a 1970's hairstyle.

"Princess Seònaid V. I was poisoned." replied a woman in medieval Scottish royal attire with a posh Scottish accent.

"Beauregard Cruz. I accidentally set myself on fire." said a tough, thuggish man with tattoos whose entire skin was ashy and burnt to a crisp.

"Liam Arkham. I was bitten by a spider." said an Australian-accented young man who had an overly-swollen bite on his arm as proof.

"Arthur Figg. My oxygen tank exploded for unknown reasons and I suffocated." said a man in an astronaut suit.

"Ozymandias Uhlterwaite XI. I fell five stories onto some rocks." replied a man wearing typical lighthouse keeping garments.

"Hollingshead Kraeszig. I had a terrible smoking addiction." said an elder man of Dutch heritage who looked disfigured.

"Sharon Pike. I drowned." said a teenage girl with shoulder-length blonde hair wearing a rash guard and bikini bottom while holding a surfboard.

"Elizabeth Mayfair. My new husband stabbed me to death." said a young woman wearing a 19th century bridal gown.

Bob pointed at Marcellus last and he just sighed.

"Marcellus King. All I know is that I bled to death." He said to everyone. 

"Well, that's quite alright. You don't need to remember everything. I'd like to welcome you all for coming here and joining me today. Now I'd like each of you to share with our new member your stories of how you passed. Who'd like to start?" asked Bob.

"I'll go." Sharon raised her hand. "Well, to start it off. I come from Malibu, California. A pretty decent place if you ask me. I was quite popular in high school because I became quite known for surfing waves without effort or trouble. Me and my friends would usually head out to the beach at night to jump some waves. It was never any trouble for me, of course. It was more fun than ever. But then one day, Hurricane Kiko arrived and I planned to do the impossible. I was going to surf a rogue wave during the hurricane. A stunt that I would soon regret. My mother and friends warned me not to, but I didn't listen. As I was surfing the largest wave ever, it became too strong for me to handle and I lost my balance, causing the wave to send me underwater, struggling to swim to the top, but it was no use. Then my head banged against a large rock underwater and that was it for me. They found my body washed ashore after the hurricane with my head blood profusely."

"And, of course, this is why you must always listen to your parents, Sharon." informed Bob. "They're just trying to protect from harm and danger, even when you're old enough to take care of yourself. I know you were probably trying to impress your peers surfing that wave, but I'd be more concerned about your own safety then your reputation."

"I know, Bob. I was very stupid and it was all on me." Sharon admitted somberly.

Liam went next without even raising his hand and began, "I was a YouTuber from Australia. My account name was "Diehardexplosion". I film myself playing video games and performing crazy and mostly dangerous stunts like riding my bike through a bike park and bungee jumping using a GoPro cam. All of them badass and awesome. But all that had to end soon. I got my equipment to film my journey through the Toolangi State Forest with my bug spray and sunscreen because it was going to be hot down there. It was moist and cool going through that forest and I shouldn't known that my adventures streak would come back to haunt me. I accidentally stepped through a big web and didn't think much about eventually. But I knew in hindsight, that I probably should've. After going about a mile or two, I felt something bite me on him arm. It was a big spider. It caught me right there on my arm here."

He pointed at his bite on his forearm.

"And what kind of spider was it?" asked Bob.

"It was an Australian funnel-web spider." Liam answered rather gently as if the words to cast a curse on him.

Most of the members gasped and winced with fright when the thought of said species popped up. Liam continued on with his story.

"But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part: I didn't even know it was there until after it bit me." He winced and had a look of strained fear painted on his face. "Days went by and the doctors didn't know how to help me. They gave me some pills, but they were no good. I had to stop making more videos for YouTube as the condition got worse every passing day. My sanity descended farther down as I had grown far more afraid of spiders. I was slightly arachnophobic before, but I became even more so after that altercation in the forest. My fractured mind began to play tricks on me. Everywhere I looked, I see spiders in different sizes. Jumping spiders, goliath bird-eating spiders, tarantulas, swarms of them just.....AHHH!"

When he yelped suddenly, Liam hopped out of his chair like a bee had stung him and when into full-on panic mode as his mind was going haywire with arachnophobic nonsense, clouding his vision, causing him to freakout while those around him either backed away from his sudden change in behavior or trying to calm him down. Liam was on the chair, trying to avoid the "spiders" around him.

"OH, GOD! THERE EVERYWHERE! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! GET 'EM AWAY FROM ME! GET 'EM AWAY!"

He was on the ground now, but was now shielding himself with the chair and then started bashing the chair onto the floor, using it as a sort-of weapon, trying to smash the non-existent arachnids around him. Everyone backed further away from him as both he and his mind went wild and out of control. Bob was unfazed by this violent paranoia as he approached Liam cautiously with his arms out.

"Liam. Liam. Liam. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down, Liam. There are no spiders. There's nothing here but us. It's okay. Breath. Breath and settle down." Bob spoke to him like a father would a child who was scared out of his wits.

At the sound of Bob's comforting words, Liam start to calm down, albeit still a little paranoid as he panted hysterically with the chair still raised up. He shivered as he panted with his eyes widened. Liam gently placed the chair onto the floor and slowly sat back in it as he tried to collect his bearings from that immediate episode. Everyone decided it was okay now and scooted their seats back into a circle. Sharon sat next to him and rubbed his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"It's okay, Liam. There are no spiders here. And even if there were, there's no way they would hurt you. You're already dead. We all are." Bob reminded him and Liam started to feel more confident now.

"Good. Okay, moving on. Who's next?" asked the iconic painter. 

"What is this "YouTube" you speak of, laddie?" asked Seònaid. "And this "GoPro"?"

"Are you next?" asked Bob.

The Scottish princess sighed and began reluctantly, "Very well. I was born in the Dark Ages. I was a princess, of course. Born in a royal castle withe magnificent servants and loyal knights. I was excited to have everything once my day came. How jolly I was. But one day, the king of the neighboring clan arrived and demanded ransom for his people. When denied, he murdered my father in front of me and everyone and took my mother away where they raped her and kept her as a sex slave. I matured horribly that day. I changed for the worst. They say that wealth can be a curse. But I beg the differ. On the day of my coronation, I made my first proclamation. That I was to never marry or let my guard down to any man and to have them perform tasks on a regular basis on my order. Which was make food for me, make clothes for me and make gifts for me. Also, no fornication was allowed for any reason. If anyone refused to obey these obligations or testified against me, I would have them disembodied and have their body parts made into meals for me."

"Damn." replied Beauregard with disbelief.

"That's fucked up." Tiffany said, shaking her head.

"I cheated on my wife once, but you are a disgusting pig!" Ozymandias scolded harshly, jabbing a finger at her.

Seònaid seemed albeit hurt by his words, but she knew deep down that he was lying. She knew her past actions were unacceptable and there was no testifying against that.

"Everyone called me many things. A tyrant, a monster, a bitch, a whore. But I didn't care. I still carried out my proclamation like it was no one else's business and it wasn't. I should've expected someone would be out to kill me one day and that day came faster than ever. I invited King Ulhart V to my kingdom for a great feast, but I was planning to kill him and steal all of his riches. Unfortunately, the tables turned on me as he had some spike my wine with nightshade and when I drank it, it started coughing up blood before my life faded away. I suppose that was my comeuppance for everything I have done."

"Damn straight." Wladislav grunted, crossing his arms.

"So why did you really become to malevolent ruler? Was it for revenge or what?" asked Bob out of curiosity.

Seònaid answered with, "Revenge is an outrageous term, but yes. Every since my father, the king, was slain in front of his wife and child and people on cold blood, my sanity snapped and I just took my years of anger out on everybody the day I became queen."

"And the cannibalism?" asked Yeghivart flippantly.

"I......Corruption takes many forms." Seònaid explained with a shrug. "Eating meals made from the flesh and organs of my victims was beyond cruel."

"No shit." Beauregard retorted.

"I'll go next." said Arthur, raising his hand. "When I started out as an astronaut, I thought there were to be more out of it. We go into space, get out the world outside of our planet and the like. Anyway, I worked for NASA as a commander for the lunar model, Medulla. Our mission dubbed "Apollo 20" was simple. Fly to the moon, collect data from the last module left behind by the Russians and collect data. Needless to say, I wasn't very careful with my oxygen. My fellow comrades collected some moon rocks to show their families back on Earth. Sounded ridiculous, if you ask me. Then all of the sudden, all communication from NASA got scratchy and we were having trouble hearing them. I volunteered to see to this problem myself. So I got my tools and headed out to repair the satellite. As I was fixing it, my oxygen tanks suddenly exploded out of the blue and all my oxygen evaporated into the airless environment. I started to cough and gag as I couldn't breath from the lack of air and eventually, my lungs couldn't go on and I just.......suffocated."

"I remember wanting to go into space as a kid." replied Ozymandias in small voice.

"That job requires a lot of training by the military and the government." Arthur reminded him.

"I never knew people in modern times could go into space." Anna said. "I was always told that there was nothing in the sky except the stars."

"Alright then. Why don't you go next?" asked Arthur.

"Okay." She sighed, crossing her arms. "It was time of the pilgrims and the Indians. When England migrated to the United States for their settlement. Back in those days, women like me weren't allowed to read or dance since they believed it was the work of witches. This was during the Salem witch trials where they murdered young women after accusing him of witchcraft. I was among those unlucky women, as well as Abigail Williams, my childhood friend. Long story short, they hung me by the neck for reading and dancing in the woods naked."

Most of the men stared at her unblinkingly in either confusion or surprise.

"What? Never seen a girl naked before?" She barked.

"I seen one in a magazine." Beauregard answered nonchalantly.

"Okay." Bob said continuing the session. "Tiffany?"

"Alright." She tapped her index fingers together, trying to sum up to courage of telling them. "I was a high school student from the late 1970's. I was popular, pretty, glamorous and kind of a diva. Okay, I was a lot of a diva. I felt a queen because my family was rich. I bullied many people and dated several guys. The power and fame got to my head. My nemesis, Jane Crempe, we called her the "Nerdy Cream-pie", attacked me and assaulted for all my treatment on her. Then me and my clique decided to play a prank on her to get back at her. We stashed a death adder snake into her locker to give her a good fright the next time she opened it. When she did, the snake bit her and we all laughed her. Unfortunately, the death adder turned out to be poisonous and Jane died from the snake's venom. I mean, how was I supposed to know the snake was poisonous?! So not only was I expelled from school, but my parents disowned me and I was sentenced to an asylum. When I saw the lifeless look in Jane's eyes, I finally saw who I became. But I needed to get out of that place, because I didn't want to die in a psychiatric hospital. I managed to slip my way out of the building that night. I had only gotten far enough into the woods, but the police stopped me before I could go any further. Then they gunned me down until I stopped moving."

"Ouch." Hollingshead winced.

"How long has you been, you know.......a bully?" asked Bob gently.

"For as long as my family's wealth stayed still. Yeah, we picked on many kids in our school, but our most favorite victim was Jane. We kinda saw her as gross and ugly. She even refused to join our clique so we could turn her into a carbon copy of us. I bore a grudge against her for that and everyday, we did everything we could to make her life in school as miserable as ever. We knocked her books out of her hands, we called her names, we would dump food on her head, we even spread a rumor around the school that she had sex with many boys and dumped them afterwards. She was called the school slut after that. It destroyed her life. She would've had the perfect future ahead of her. A terrific house, a husband and kids. And that's never gonna happen because of me." Tiffany expressed sorrow and guilt in her voice.

"I'm sure wealth and popularity are cool things to have, but all it does is get to your head. Turn you into something you're not." Bob explained.

"I worked as a pharmacist at a local pharmacy for 20 years." Yeghivart divulged. "My weakness was a burden. I was born with Type I osteogenesis imperfecta, which means my bones break easily like glass. I couldn't do sports as a child out of fear that I would end up in the hospital. Kids would bully me and beat me up and I get broken bones everywhere. Of course, they would heal. But that didn't mean they'd stay healed. They'll still break easily without ease. Like this."

To demonstrate, Yeghivart grabbed his right arm and bent it all the way backwards easily, making a solid, sickening cracking sound. Marcellus and everyone else winced and cringed from the sound.

"Each morning when I would stretch, it would hurt my bones. My condition had lead to a few other things like arthritis. I'm never careful, I would break my bones accidentally and it's never hard for that not to happen. I got a college degree in Doctor of Pharmacy and worked as a druggist at a pharmaceutical company. But still, my days as a child never wilt and fade. My condition was worse than before and I always had to make sure nothing bad happened to me. You see? My boss was getting fed up with my mousiness and fired me as I was performing my occupation properly because of my fear of gaining injuries. After that, I could've bear it any longer. I couldn't stand having such a delicate skeleton to make me feel and seem weak. I climbed the highest skyscraper I could and took a high dive off the top."

"How many times did you get your bones broken?" asked Bob.

Yeghivart hummed in thought and scratched his cheek.

"About 15 to 20 times."

"You say you feel 95 stories and whatnot. I feel about 5 stories as I have previously mentioned." Ozymandias proclaimed. "It was during World War II when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I was a regular lighthouse keeper tasked with guiding Allied ships to port during night. Then one day while I was at my usual drinking routine down at the tavern, I was approached by a strange man who said that he could offer me a life of wealth and riches beyond my comprehension under the condition that I would cause the Allied ships to crash and sink. I eventually agreed to his terms as I thought I would be rich and famous, but was I ever wrong. There can a powerful thunderstorm accompanied by heavy winds from the west. The next ship was to make it's port by midnight that night. I flipped off the lighthouse, leaving them in the dark, disoriented and lost between the rain and the raging waves. At that point, I thought I had pulled it off. But then everything went downhill from there. A large tree branch caught by the storm's winds flew right into the windows and knocked me out of the lighthouse and I feel down onto the wet and hard rocks below. My body was lost at sea."

"Did it ever occur to you who that man was?" asked Bob.

"I didn't really care until after I died." explained Ozymandias. "It was revealed that he was an undercover German spy using an American accent and persuasive charisma to trick me. If only I was that cautious."

"An enemy fooled you into betraying your company? And you fell for it? Damn." griped Beauregard.

"I bet he was never going to give me money either and perhaps he was just using me to crash Allied ships which would later lead to me getting killed." Ozymandias said matter-of-factly.

"Didn't your superiors ever told you to be careful with who you speak with or make deals with?" asked Sharon.

"All they tell me is to watch the lighthouse and do my job." He answered.

"Never you mind." Wladislav waved off. "My turn now. I was a fisherman in my day. Probably the most successful as I had caught more fish than anyone in my town. I catch trout, sardines, salmon, swordfish all for a good cause. My son owned the local fish market, probably the best in town. But there had been recent sightings of a great white shark lurking around the shores of our town, which was strange, given the fact that there were never any sharks around to begin with. Many unlucky souls to swim the waters became instant victims to this bloodthirsty beast."

Wladislav poked the shark's head, to which it's only response was blinking it's eyes at him.

"I, on the other hand, was determined to put down this shark and end it's reign of terror. Believe it or not, I've killed a lot of dangerous sea creatures from killer whales to barracudas. So killed the shark shouldn't have been a problem. Unfortunately, I underestimated him and it appeared to have the upper hand. I'll have to admit, he put up a better fight than the others. He tore apart my fishing boat, bite off my left hand and finally he dragged me underwater to finish me off. But I wasn't ready to give in. I had my trusty harpoon gun and while it chewed up my body and my leg, I fire the harpoon right here."

Pointing at said harpoon in the shark's head, he took it out, causing blood to leak from it's wound. Now blood usually spills out of a wound like water, but the shark's blood just floated up and around the air as if it was still underwater.

"Must've hit a jugular." Wladislav thought as he placed the sharp weapon back in. "Anyway, so the both of us died pretty much at the same time. We bleed out from our wounds and died underwater."

"Just out of curiosity, how are you able to walk with him on your leg?" asked Marcellus, who had remained quiet the entire time.

"I just take him off my leg simply. I have only one leg left. You can't see the other since it's in his mouth. But he's basically eaten my foot for the most part." said Wladislav.

“Okay. Moving on, now. Ósvald, you wanna go next?” Bob asked the frozen man in question who nodded, which, in turn, caused some of the ice on him to crackle a tad from the slow movement.

“First of all, I was a young historian in my days of life. I worked at the Icelandic Museum of Natural History. Before that, I was a school teacher. Neither employments provided me with enough salary. Not barely enough for me to pay my heating bills. Now where I come from, Iceland is mostly a chilly place. Not always, but mostly. In the winter, it’s was the Ice Age starting over again. During a cold and icy wintry week in December, my furnace stopped working again and because I failed to pay the bills on time due to my dead-end job, I was forced to face the sub-zero temperatures around me. I caught a case of hypothermia, but not only that, but a massive and powerful snowstorm struck my town with tons a snow and wind coming in all directions. My house was archaic and less than protective from the weather and I soon froze to death.” explained the Icelandic native.

“Brrr. I can bet it must’ve been chilly.” said Arthur, shivering at the thought of living in the cold.

“It was worse than that.” Ósvald told him.

"Guess that's why they call it "Ice-land", am I right?" joked Tiffany, but everyone groaned at her humor attempt at a time like this.

“Now that we’re done with Frosty the Snowman, I’ll got next.” interrupted Hollingshead. “I was a mortgage broker in Denmark. I was a smoker, of course. I smoked a lot that I couldn't get enough of it. I worked in a non-smoking area so I if ever wanted a cigarette, I’d have to sneak away to find a lonesome place to suck on that tobacco. I’ve been smoking since I was in high school. Some kid came by and offered me a cigarette and was like “Hey, you wanna smoke?” and me in all my pigheadedness, I stupidly agreed saying “Yeah, sure. Light me up”. I tried so hard to quit, but it’s never easy. As months morphed into years, the demons of my smoking addictions made their presence known in the form of dangerous cancer. My breath was running low and I have terrible pains. I was diagnosed with cancer in my lungs, bladder, kidney, stomach, esophagus, liver and finally, my pancreas. Then, as you already guessed, I died.”

“Mmm, why would you just let that kid offer you a smoke?” Bob asked quizzingly. “I mean, surely, you must’ve known the effects of smoking.”

“I did, but I let myself get hooked.” Hollingshead admitted.

“How often did you smoke?” asked Beauregard.

“Few times every day.” answered the former smoke addict.

“I used to smoke a few times before I quit. But, thankfully, I didn’t catch fire from them.” explained Beauregard. “Now I’ve been living in a cold-hearted world in my days. People give you attitude, no extra money on your account, everything’s all topsy-turvy. I was a criminal and a hard shell of one at that. I robbed banks with my gang and even tried to commit murder. My police finally caught me and I was sentenced to five years in prison. But the day finally came when I was released. From that point on, I decided to make a life change. No more guns, no more heists, no assault or taking lives. I wanted to be a changed man. But my former gang was not happy about this. They kidnapped my girlfriend and drowned her in the river. I literally flipped my shit and had to break my “no-killing” rule just for a brief moment to get back at them. I managed to sniff out their hideout and attempted to burn them all from the inside. Using a bottle of beer and a napkin, I lit it and threw it into the building. However, my aim was shitty and the bottle was sent flying back at me. It smashed at my feet and I found myself being engulfed with burning flames. I tried everything I could to put out the fire. I stop, drop and roll, but it was no use. Finally, the fire overwhelmed my body and I ended up burnt up like an overdone burger.”

“Ouch.” winced Sharon.

“What was your life like before you became a criminal?” asked Annabelle out of curiosity.

“I was born and raised in an abusive household. My father was a fat and lazy drunk who only cared about himself. He never paid me or my siblings any attention and would rather sit in front of the TV, popping a coldie. My mother had to take two jobs to help support us. One as a cashier and one as a prostitute. In my 12-year old state, I can only remember my parents arguing and screaming at each other day after day and him beating her as badly as he did me and my siblings. I argued with him before as well, but they always end with him winning by force and me getting locked in the closet, kicked out of the house and left to sleep outside, punched and kicked and called names. I eventually snapped and stole my father’s gun. Yes, he had a gun and I shot him with it in front of my brothers and sister. I don’t know what happened that day, but all I know is that I’ve been on the run from the police ever since.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Ozymandias gasped.

“What about your mother?” asked Liam, afraid of the answer.

“She hanged herself at one point.”

Annabelle gagged and winced, gripping her delicate neck as his words reminded her of the same way her life was taken from her.

“Elizabeth, you’re up.” Bob replied.

She rolled her eyes and sighed before giving her life story. She didn’t like talking about this as it has haunted her her whole afterlife. But she had no option at the moment.

Elizabeth mustered enough strength to form words and said, “I was born an heiress to a wealthy family, possibly the most successful in the South. My first husband was a kind man. He was Confederate soldier who left home to go fight in the American Civil War. But word got out that he along several of his comrades died in battle against the Union in Gettysburg. Oh, I was mortified of the news. But I eventually came upon a handsome man who would soon be my killer. A man named Joseph P. Richtings claiming that was a plantation owner. I was a petty fool to believe him. I should've known that he had me wrapped around his little finger. We went around for weeks until he asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes. How stupid was I? We got married and went to our master bedroom to consummate our marriage. I’ll spare you any inappropriate details and go right to the point. He suddenly revealed a big knife in his hand and plunged it deep into my chest, stabbing me in my heart. Now I’m usually a trusting gal. But when it comes to men, I let my mannerisms blind my judgement. The man turned out to be a gold-digger the whole time and was using me to get my family inheritage. Just waiting for the right moment to strike. He covered my murder up and told everyone that a robber broke into the house and killed before he had time to protect me and knocked him out. That lying, money-stealing, lady-killing, son of a bitch!”

“Calm down! Calm down, Lizzie! Don’t get all worked up. I apologize that Joseph chose you, but things happen. Sometimes we don’t understand what we’re doing or who we’re speaking to. But it’s really human nature.” Bob explained to the raving woman. She growled and crossed her arms.

“Well, that’s everyone, Marcellus. So are you really to tell us a little about you now?” Bob asked Marcellus finally and everyone was now facing him and listening. As of now, Marcellus’s memories were starting to come back, but some that explain his death more clearly.

“It’s all coming back to me.” He cleared his throat and responded, “In my younger years, I was a pretty, uh….morose and lonely kid. I had friends and enemies. Mostly my fault, I have to admit. Then one day, the army showed up at our school and I thought about becoming a soldier one day, just like my old man. So I did. I got accepted into military academy and my skills improved in the later years. I was drafted into the army where I was just a mere private. But after proving my acceptance to the military, like single-handedly rescuing a building full of people from terrorists, I was appointed Major General.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, looking somewhat impressed by his past achievements.

“Now they say the one thing about being a soldier is that you do a lot of fighting for your country. I stood for it. Even when this Donald Trump douchebag took over the office. I never lost my faith, but I wasn’t a Trump supporter. Then we were deployed on the front lines in Yemen during the Al-Qaeda insurgency that’s been going on since 1998. Me and my squadron were on patrol in an abandoned city when….”

He froze in his words when he tried to remember that day and how he got killed. But everything was still fuzzy.

“When what?” asked Bob.

“I-I don’t know.” Marcellus shook his head. “But the next thing I know, I had a deep, deep open wound on my thigh and I was bleeding profusely. My comrades tried their best to get me across the desert for medical attention, but we were too far away from a medic and I just…..collapsed. I lost a lot of blood. And that’s all I know.”

“I’m sure you’ll remember soon, but thank you for sharing with us. Ooh, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. So I’ll see you all next week.” Bob explained as he and the rest of the members all sat up and started to take their leave. Elizabeth shot a quick wondering stare towards Marcellus as she departed with the rest of the group. Annabelle placed a comforting hand on Marcellus’s shoulder.

“Take care.” She assured him with friendly advice before leaving as well.

Marcellus stood there for a moment or two before going to join the rest of them in leaving to find his way back to his new, dilapidated apartment. His thoughts were swirling around as he tried to remember the events that day. How did he end up with that cut on his thigh? What happened while they were on patrol? All these unanswered questions and so little truths. But it’s going to take more than reminiscing to understand how it all went down.


End file.
